


I remember

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, French Jean Kirstein, Gen, German Eren Yeager, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Insecurity, Minor Character Death, Minor Levi/Eren Yeager, Most people are assholes, Non-Chronological, OOC, Regret, Suicidal Thoughts, despite Eren being German they live in England and move to scotland, eren's pov, most characters are mentioned - Freeform, selfharm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 12:10:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14425134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: I remember her coffin, a pure white one, like the snow we had to trudge through, I was in a dress and it was cold. I remember my uncontrollable tears. I don't remember if I was even able to say goodbye or 'Gute Nacht'. I remember telling myself, “not dead, but sleeping.” I remember finding her childhood teddy, Uppo, I'd lie at night cuddling him, just thinking of her. I remember finding every single drawing we'd ever created and given her. She kept them all.





	I remember

I remember my first kiss, dreams of candlelit dinners, fireworks, and the pouring rain all with Levi, all dashed, my first kiss was a joke. Gunther didn't even ask. I laughed, legs weak. After that, my ideas of romance were ruined, kisses meant nothing. I felt an immense guilt too, Levi didn't deserve this. I was just turned 16.

I remember the first time I hated my body, when I'd stare in the mirror, only focusing on my stomach and how bloated it was. I started eating less, felt sick during eating. I was 10.

I remember skipping meals and trying to hide this from my parents. I remember Armin forcing me to eat lunch, not believing my excuse that I eat after school, and anyway I didn't have money. So he lent me some. I paid them back extra. I was 12.

I remember the date when everything changed when dad got the phone call from Germany. We were looking forward to Christmas, and mum was visiting her family in Germany, she was travelling back to the airport. Dad was on the phone in the kitchen, we were in the sunroom, we could hear everything, but everything was in German so we couldn't understand. The 21st of December 2012, that was the date. Mum was dead. I was 11.

I remember her coffin, a pure white one, like the snow we had to trudge through, I was in a simple suit and it was cold. I remember my uncontrollable tears. I don't remember if I was even able to say goodbye or 'Gute Nacht'. I remember telling myself, “not dead, but sleeping.” I remember finding her childhood teddy, Uppo, I'd lie at night cuddling him, just thinking of her. I remember finding every single drawing we'd ever created and given her. She kept them all.

I remember Mikasa asking to draw with her again. I couldn't. My love of drawing was dead. Not even my dearest sister could bring it back. I was 11.

I remember the first time I was manipulated (or a better name for these series of events when I didn't trust my best (and really my only) friend and stabbed him in the back). I remember believing that he was belittling me and bullying me. We fought and he was left alone. I remember feeling listless as the only person who was supposedly on my side, Petra, ignored me and her friend, Oluo, was a bitch. I remember still holding a grudge against them even after primary school. I remember making new friends, while Armin was left by himself. I still have regrets. I'll live with those forever. I was 11.

I remember meeting Jean, Connie and Marco. I remembered Connie from Primary school, he was the kid who left. Of course, I didn't believe it was the same guy. I had an on-off friendship with him. I ignored him for weeks at one point. I remember fighting with them. I remember looking up to Jean to a point where I started copying him. I don't enjoy looking back to those days, after all, I was violent and would hit people over the head. With a book. I was 12.

I stopped, thankfully. My heart wasn't in it.

I remember watching teen titans and initially tracing the scenes, before properly drawing it. While I didn't have my love for art back, I was slowly regaining it. I was 13.

I remember crying in front of my whole class during a fight with Jean, feeling their eyes all staring at me. I remember how weak and worthless I felt. I remember no one helping me and later I remember them mocking me. I was 13.

I remember my friends made an “I hate Germany” club, I remember being mocked for learning/speaking the language. I remember losing my pride in that part of me. I remember feeling hurt because back in first year Jean wanted me to teach him German and he would teach me French. I remember fighting with him because apparently I talked about Germany too much according to him but she'd constantly speak in French and would talk about France a lot. I remember him insulting me because I was still grieving for my mum. I was 14.

I remember crying in the toilets because I was sick of feeling judged every time I cried. I'd leave my friends, I don't even know if they noticed or cared, to escape to the toilets where I'd cry until I felt ready to face the world. I remember one time when Eld walked in as I was splashing water over my face. He was the only person who ever asked if I was ok. I lied. I was 14.

I remember being called a drug dealer, stripper and pole dancer by my friends. I tried to fight it, I really did, denying it and arguing my case as to why I wasn't. They didn't stop and I just gave up and went along with it. I was 15.

I remember playing Just Dance with Marco, I sucked at it and Marco kept on winning, but it was fun. I remember creating stories together and watching Die Hard. I remember considering him my best friend. I was 12.

I remember Marco saying he didn't have best friends because he didn't like the favouritism. I later remembered this after a fight with Jean, where he supposedly had no sides, yet he didn't try to hang out with me. I was 14.

I remember being annoyed with Jean because he fell out with me and I had to hang out with Connie, even though I knew he was abusive, I just didn't realise he wasn't just abusing Jean, he was abusing me. I remember talking shit about Jean because I helped him get out of the abusive situation and he just threw me to the side, and I would talk about how he was just as bad as Connie because he would punch people and call them all sorts of names. All the guys feared him. Yet I still would've chosen him over everything. I don't know what was wrong with me. Maybe I was secretly afraid of him too. I was 15.

I remember the first time I self-harmed. My normal methods to stave off the urge didn't work so I searched in the darkness for something sharp. I found scissors. Upon seeing the blood I immediately calmed down, it was so relaxing and that scared me. I became addicted and when the urge arises it's hard to stop. It's downright terrifying yet so fucking relaxing. I was 15.

I remember the first time I felt suicidal but had no idea how to go about it. I just wanted Jean back because we fell out and I had no one but my boyfriend, Levi, who was halfway across the world, he helped me so much for someone who couldn't physically be there to comfort me. I was scared and hid everything, out of fear of being mocked, and fear of being like Connie.

I remember Jean being the first person I told about moving to Scotland.

I remember Connie making “jokes” about brutally murdering me. I remember him looking like he was going to punch me but stopping, then laughing as I flinched. I remember I was the only person he did that too. I remember him mocking my voice and my love for Germany. I remember him placing his problems over everyone else's. I remember him never letting my past mistakes go. I remember being told about him talking about me behind my back. Most of all, I remember him cutting himself. I asked why, told him to stop, told him that he shouldn't have even done it and most definitely not because of a girl. I remember the shock I felt when the next again day, he showed new cuts, and the hurt and anger I felt when he blamed it on us. I was 15.

I remember being told I had to be attractive to be able to get anywhere in life, and life's easier attractive, I was also told that to be attractive I had to stay skinny. It was harder for guys to be attractive so build up muscle too. I was told this by my dad. This happened multiple times in my life.

I remember being that guy who people would ask out as a joke, I was tripped and laughed at. I was mocked for things that I said due to my ever-present brashness and over-eagerness. My voice was constantly mocked and laughed at, people compared it to a chipmunk or a robot. I remember Erwin constantly asking me out as a joke and Oluo trying to convince me to actually go through with it. They made me feel bad for him, saying he had a crush on me since primary school and would cry himself to sleep every time I rejected him. I believed him. I was made a joke afterwards and any hopes of some beautiful romance story were dashed. I was always going to be a supporting character, standing on the sidelines in someone else's story. I was 12.

I remember getting the letter which said that the doctors were uncertain whether or not I had mental health issues that were affecting my life. Everything seemed to crumble around me and I spiralled. I was just turned 16.

I remember the first time I drank. It was just a sip of cider. I was 15. Months later that sip of cider turned into a shot of vodka, which turned into drinking enough to get me drunk, regularly. Somehow I never had to deal with a hangover. I was 16.

I remember my “best friend” saying I was like a lost puppy and that he pitied me, that that was the only reason he even hung out with me. He told me that he just wanted to punch me and that I was as bad as Connie. I remember Connie saying I had to be the manipulative one because I made Jean believe he was abusive. I remember asking Jean why he never punched me because that would've hurt so much less than the shit that he put me through. I asked him if he hated me so much, why did he try to make me happy. Why did he hang out with me, because he had no problems leaving me alone, he's done it before? I remember telling him that I cried over him so many times it was unreal and that I looked up to him, that I forgave him every single time he hurt me because that's what friends do.

I didn't want to be alone. I cared for him and was constantly looking out for him, every time he cried I picked him up and tried to make everything better again, but those words were the final straw. He hurt me too much with them. I remember telling him, “So, after this, I will not have anything to do with you ever again, and you can just forget me and I will act like I never knew you.” I remember being so angry, so upset that I poured my heart out and let him know everything because I wanted to let him know, that he'd hurt me and that I still couldn't bring myself to hate him.

Because maybe I am just a lost puppy.

I remember researching emotional abuse, and everything clicking into place. That the reason why I changed so much was never due to the death of my mum, but through the years of abuse, through having to walk on eggshells around my “friends”. Through being manipulated since I was 11. The scariest part is, for the longest time, I've never had full control over my mind, not since I was 11 and the scarier part is, that I still don't have control over my mental health. I can try to grasp at an idea of control, try to hold onto the smallest glimpses of happiness. But I don't have control over whether or not I fall over the edge.

I doubt I ever will.

 


End file.
